


Points on a Line

by Dorsail



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Death, Drabble Collection, First Kiss, Fluff, Found Family, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Needles, Non-Chronological, Otasune Week 2020, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Relationship, cremation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:21:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25662025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorsail/pseuds/Dorsail
Summary: "If this goes wrong, you could be killed. And me… I could rot in prison for the rest of my life.”“Sounds like I have the better part of the deal, if you ask me.”(Collection of drabbles written for Otasune Week 2020)
Relationships: Otacon/Solid Snake
Comments: 20
Kudos: 36





	1. Nature

_8/20/2005_

Otacon leaned back from the computer, heaving a sigh. This was the third time this morning he had poured over the facility’s blueprints and the path he had outlined for his partner in crime. Speaking of Snake, he didn’t think that the man had the patience to run through yet another test of their coms system without protest. Eyes tired and aching from hours of screen time, Otacon stood up from his chair. He shook out his numb legs, and ambled over to the window. Then tread over to the kitchenette. Then over to the window. Then over to the--

“You doing alright?” Snake asked, voice gruff. He was reclined on the sofa, his book to his chest.

Otacon rubbed his forehead. “About as well as I could the day before breaking into a top secret government office, why?”

Snake exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Why don’t we just take a walk, if you’re pacing so much?”

It was hot. In the time it took to descend the stairwell of the apartment complex and make it to the sidewalk, they were already uncomfortably sweaty. But Snake had been observant while they took their first cab ride through the foreign city. Just around the corner and a block down was a city park full of expansive emerald trees. Otacon sighed in relief as they stepped beneath the shady canopy, fanning himself with his shirt collar. Unlike the streets bustling with cars and pedestrians, the park was relatively empty; a noisy construction site next door made sure of that. The lack of prying eyes put the hacker at ease, and he released not only the tension from his shoulders but the worries caught in his throat.

“It’s just--” Otacon stammered, “if this goes wrong, you could be killed.”

The sudden statement tore Snake’s gaze from the finches darting two and fro on the branches above. He mulled it over for a moment, then simply shrugged. “That’s a risk for just about every job I’ve done.”

“And me…” Otacon looked down, staring at his hands. “I could rot in prison for the rest of my life.”

“Sounds like I have the better part of the deal, if you ask me,” Snake said and clapped his partner on the back.

Otacon peered back up to him with a worried grimace plastered on his face. Snake exhaled, rubbing his friend’s shoulder in reassurance. Right. Morbid humor wasn’t a staple for Hal Emmerich as much as it was for Solid Snake. He stopped their pace, gripping both of Hal’s arms and facing him head on.

“Listen, we both need to be cautious,” Snake spoke, voice low. “We’re stealth operatives. Me in the physical realm, and you in the virtual. But anxiety isn’t the same as caution. It can trip you up, make you hesitate. I think you’ll find once we get started, it will all fall into place. After all, you’ve helped me before, through Shadow Moses.”

“I guess that’s true…” Otacon said, a wistful smile breaking upon his lips. “And that was a lot more high stakes than this little job.”

“You’re scared because this _Philanthropy_ is your venture, and you don’t want it to fail. But I have faith in us.” Snake shook him for extra emphasis. “And you should too.”

Otacon closed his eyes, steeling himself. He nodded once, twice, then smiled to his friend with newfound confidence. “Alright. Thanks, Snake.”

Satisfied, the soldier relinquished his grip with one hand but not the other, instead wrapping his arm around the back of Otacon’s shoulders. He steered them towards a misty fountain, watching a butterfly dance through the streams of water. 

“Hey, we’re off duty. Out enjoying nature, right?” he grinned. “ _Dave_ will do just fine.”


	2. Blooming

_12/4/2005_

“ _The Prime Minister announced his resignation this morning, following protests--_ ”

The bottle opener wrenched the cap free from the beer.

“ _\--supplied with test data on the United States’ prototype weapon, code named Metal Gear REX--_ ”

The top popped off the second bottle.

“ _\--believe this could set the precedent for future responses pertaining to--_ ”

David strode over to the sofa, a beer in each hand. He settled next to Hal, handing off a beverage. They clinked the bottles together in a toast before taking generous sips each.

“ _The question remains: are there any other countries out there with the test data?_ ” 

“Hey, we’re working as fast as we can, lady!” Hal shouted to the TV screen.

“Asking rhetorical questions instead of mobilizing internal investigations,” David said. “I guess we have to do all the dirty work ourselves, huh?”

“Oh!” Hal choked a bit on his drink, coughing. “That reminds me!”

He leaned forward, punching a few keystrokes into the laptop before him on the coffee table. Snake bent over to read the new window that appeared on the screen. 

“You know how I opened a repository for hits?” Hal asked. “Admittedly, we’ve been receiving a lot of fake or obvious phishing tips, but after analyzing the data, we’ve conclusively pinpointed at least three other countries that purchased the test data.” He leaned back, arms crossed, pleased with himself. “How’s that for crowdsourcing?”

David chuckled a bit, shaking his head in awe. He peered up to his partner, a wide grin on his face. “Doc, I’m so happy I could kiss you.”

Hal cocked an eyebrow. “Oh? Then why don’t you?”

That sly grin broadened. Swiftly he grabbed Hal's chin, searching for any sign of hesitation-- and found none. Satisfied, David pulled him in and pressed their lips together roughly, eagerly. The fringe of David’s hair tickled Hal’s temples, and he suppressed a laugh but not the smile that crept on his face, pulling his lips taut against David’s loose and exploratory ones. He couldn’t last long like that; his nerves coming back and unable to quell the pure, unadulterated happiness radiating through him. Hal broke away, allowing himself a few huffs of laughter before he brought a fist to his mouth to compose himself. 

“I… I’ve wanted to do that for a while now,” Hal admitted.

“Me too,” David said, finding himself ginning just as unabashedly.

Hal chuckled again and tucked a strand of hair behind David’s ear, his hand lingering to cup his cheek. “Well, well. Look at us… enjoying life.”


	3. Protection

_11/7/2006_

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Otacon was doubled over in the passenger seat. His white knuckles were visible through locks of wet hair, his tendons stretched to burst. Snake’s eyes flitted back to the road, raindrops streaking across the windshield with the captured light of streetlamps darting past. He gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter.

“I’m sorry. Please…”

Who was he apologizing to? God?

Or the man he had killed? 

The acrid taste of guilt stung in Snake’s chest. He had made a mistake, and Otacon had bailed him out of it. He had done so before, but every time previously the solution had been a flurry of keystrokes or a well-timed escape vehicle. Not pulling a trigger.

It was Snake who had taught him how to shoot a gun. When he placed the weapon into his partner’s hands, watching Otacon’s nose wrinkle in contempt, Snake always assumed that it would be used as a last resort-- to save _himself_. At that moment in time, Snake could never ask Otacon of all people to cut down a life for his sake.

In the past, it was different.

On an island in the Aleutian Archipelago, he had demanded for Otacon to break him out of a cell-- by any means necessary. The possibility of collateral damage was insignificant compared to the threat of nuclear catastrophe. The soldier’s body and synapses ached from torture. Sympathy was the farthest thing from his mind.

Yet the second time Snake needed help that night, his conscience had reigned him in.

_“I told you before, I don’t want to hurt anyone.”_

_“I don’t want you to either.”_

_“If you love someone, you have to be able to protect them.”_

_“I think so, too.”_

“I’m sorry… I’m so goddamn--”

Snake would have liked to say it was the same for his first kill. It wasn’t. He was too far removed. The man that had crumpled before his bullets was not a man at all. Just a figure, a target on the desert horizon. By the time his squad converged on the point, their enemies were long dead. No, that horrifying realization only happened later after cutting a man’s throat and feeling the hot blood splash at his hands. So much blood. Eons until the stream let up. Braking at a stoplight, the raindrops glowed a brilliant red.

The pause rattled Snake, realizing he had not said a word to Otacon since the gunshot rang out, the sound hardly muffled by the rain. His throat clasped and unclasped. It was no use. If he could even think of anything to say-- anything that wasn’t hollow or superficial-- the words would never be able to worm past the guilt wedged firmly in his trachea. Instead, Snake reached out, his hand softly resting on Otacon’s back. The sobbing did not stop. Never in his life had Solid Snake ever felt so useless. A candle in a downpour.

“God... please forgive me.”


	4. Family

_ 2/11/2011 _

David couldn’t see what they were watching, but he heard Japanese and watched bright colors flash upon the pair each time a scene changed. Sunny’s hair was so translucent that it was tinted into new color every other moment, like an indecisive party wig. Hal’s glasses reflected the picture clearly; it looked like a children’s show with chibi animals. 

The idea of a family never intrigued David. How could it, when again and again the relationships he had made fell apart at the seams? While Hal seemed to be the exception-- the destination after a long line of failures-- their relationship never superseded their mission. They both promised to make sure of that.

But this family somehow crept under him, building a nest under his body heat. He considered himself lucky. People could search the world for a home and a family and never find one. Yet his participation in the grand scheme had been minimal. It was Hal that first contacted him after Shadow Moses, and it was Raiden who served as their delivery stork. Once all was said and done, as unexpected as the chain of events were, David felt the motivation to keep it in place. After all, he had been the only Snake to experience this. He sure as hell never felt this way in foster homes, and his time in FOXHOUND barely scratched the surface of this feeling. The feeling of belonging.

David felt himself blushing, and slid his face down his palm, now cupping his forehead. His chest was so light and he felt weightless. The smile that stretched on his face couldn’t be helped, no matter how stoic he wanted to appear. 

A family. Him.

A silent laugh scraped his throat and tickled his nostrils. God, his face must be so red. But he accepted it, closing his eyes and riding that soaring sensation of weightlessness. He never wanted to forget it.

How many years had he felt nothing? Where the only emotional constants were existential dread and guilt? But now, thanks to these two, David could finally look in the mirror and see himself, instead of a weapon in the shape of a man.


	5. Tension

_6/22/2005_

Otacon held the hypodermic needle to his face, looking for air bubbles. After the inspection passed, he made his way over to Snake. The man in question sat at full attention, spine rigid, right arm faced upward and presented out on the TV tray beside him.

“This won’t hurt a bit,” Otacon said.

One hand holding Snake’s arm steady, the other atop the plunger, Otacon began the injection. He watched intently as the liquid drained from the vial, hunkered over the arm. A moment after he unsheathed the needle from Snake’s vein, the soldier went toppling forward out of the chair and onto the carpet floor.

Otacon let out a shriek of terror, the needle cast aside as he scrambled over to his prone partner.

“Oh God, oh God, don’t be dead!” 

He flipped Snake over, his fingers moving to the man’s neck to search for a pulse. Before his hand could reach its destination, Snake’s eyes snapped open and his arm lunged out to grab Otacon’s wrist.

Otacon yelped again, his outreached hand being tossed away. Slowly, Snake sat up, holding his head. They sat there together in silence for a moment, sweat pouring down both of their brows.

“Snake,” said Otacon softly. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re scared of needles?”

The soldiers fists clenched in response.

“I’m not,” Snake all but growled. “You really are an idiot sometimes.”

He shrugged away and stood on his feet. His vision blacked out, like blots of ink, and he waited for it to pass, only teetering off balance once. 

“What’s wrong then?” Otacon asked timidly. “Is it blood?”

Snake laughed bitterly. “I’m a soldier and you think I faint at the sight of blood?” 

He swiveled around to Otacon who was still sitting on the floor, the look of terror and panic not completely wiped from his face.

“Please. Just tell me,” Hal spoke, his hands limp and pathetic in his lap.

The sorry sight softened Snake. He sighed, rubbing his arm. “How do you think they got FOXDIE in me?”

Otacon bit his lip, turning his head away. “Snake.. you know I would never do that to you. It was just nanomachines.”

“I know. But people aren’t always logical. It was like I was reliving being shot up in that damn submarine again... and remembering everyone that succumbed to FOXDIE.” 

“So, PTSD then.”

Snake didn’t know how confirming this to Otacon would help the situation. He would probably just download fussy how-to-help PDFs.

“Yes. I know how to handle it,” Snake gruffly said. “I just didn’t expect… to react that strongly.”

“I have it too,” Hal spoke quietly.

Snake held his breath, frozen. “From Shadow Moses?”

“From Shadow Moses…” Hal wrung his hands. “And from before Shadow Moses. Look, I understand if you don’t want to talk about it-- I don’t really want to be in-depth about my experiences either.”

The silence stretched on, Snake mulling over this answer in his mind. Otacon squirmed at the quietness.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to make you upset,” Otacon said. “You just scared me bad when you fainted. I thought I messed up something. Christ, I thought I might have killed you!”

“That would have been a bad start to this whole Philanthropy thing, huh?” Snake joked, an apologetic smile on his face. Otacon returned it.

Snake walked over to his partner, offering his hand. Otacon obliged, lifting up off the floor with his help. As they stood facing one another, Snake gripped him in a firm handshake.

“Look…” Snake sighed, palming the back of his neck. “I’m not used to it but-- thanks for looking out for me.” 

Otacon smiled. His other hand came up to lay softly on Snake’s, sandwiching his palm between his own.

“Hey, it’s my job... partner.”


	6. Travel

_8/6/2005_

“Should I take a break, or keep driving?”

“Take a break. These burgers are messy!”

Snake pulled into a space in the parking lot, facing the busy street. Beside him in the passenger seat, Otacon shuffled through the paper bag. He doled out their burgers and placed the box of fries precariously on the cupholders between them. The radio was low, oldies songs drowned out by the traffic rushing past. A woman walked her two poodles on the sidewalk.

“You know,” Snake piped up, “this is as close as I’ve been to the outside world in a long, long time.”

Otacon set the burger in his lap, looking to his partner. Snake's eyes were on the street before them, his gaze intent.

“I wouldn’t call the time I spent in the military part of it. That was its own separate world. Watching people go by... like nothing has changed all these years. It’s hypnotic.” 

Snake finished his epiphany by taking another giant bite of his burger. Otacon wished he had something to say to that. A reassurance, or _something_. He hoped his nodding would at least be seen in the man’s peripheral vision. 

Maybe silence was the best response, anyway. The quiet moments they shared never felt awkward or unsubstantial. More like acceptance, understanding. Percolation. Hal figured that silence was just as important as small talk.

Once lunch was over, Hal crumpled the bag full of their trash, tossing it in the back seat. “Wanna switch?”

Snake scratched his chin as he thought. “Hmm. No thanks. Driving sets my mind at ease.”

“Fine by me,” Otacon said. “You should have given me a turn on that snowmobile, though. I’ve never driven one before!”

Snake looked over his shoulder as he backed up out of the parking space. “Well, shit, doc. Let me just take a u-turn so we can head back to Alaska.”

Otacon waved his hand. “Oh, we’re an ocean away by now!”

“I know. Next time, instead of a snowmobile, I’ll let you reign the dog sled.”

“Ohh, don’t tempt me!” 

Just like that, they were back on the highway, the city’s buildings giving way to mountains and forests. Away from the mundanity of the world, or rather into a realm where it whizzed by too fast to acknowledge. Two pilots on a journey. Snake gripped the wheel, smiling.

“ _Oh, we ain’t got a barrel of money_

_Maybe we’re ragged and funny_

_But we’ll travel along_

_Singing a song_

_Side by side._ ”

He wasn’t on key but it was a singing voice that made you not quite mind. Genuine and care-free, radiating the warmth of familiarity. Hearing a voice so normally harsh flit about a tune on the lightest of breaths, Hal couldn’t help smiling too.


	7. Memories

_ 9/29/2015 _

Hal idly pet the long cardboard box. As far as coffins went, it was perfect for Solid Snake.

He never left the body out of his sight. Hal was intent on being David’s guardian angel up until the very end.

And here the end was.

He watched the corpse be prepared: stripped, wrapped, and placed in cardboard. Now he stood in front of the cremator, rubbing the box on the gurney beside him. The technician named Harry tapped his foot as he watched the temperature rise.

“We don’t usually let people watch this, you know.”

Hal shrugged. “We all mourn in different ways, I guess.”

Satisfied with the temperature, Harry opened the square steel door and wheeled the gurney over.

“Alright big guy, in ya go.”

With a firm shove, the box slid cleanly and unceremoniously into the cremator. Harry sealed the door, then ambled to where Hal stood, his arms crossed.

“You said he was a soldier?” Harry asked. “Did he fight in World War II?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Hal said.

“My grandpa did too. Small world.”

Minutes passed. Harry filled the silence by blabbering off tales of his grandfather’s exploits in the Pacific theater, the corpse burning in the cremator just besides them. David would have thought it was hilarious. He always did have a morbid sense of humor. Maybe it rubbed off on Hal, who even in such dire circumstances found himself wearing an amused smile.

“You know, heroes like our grandpas deserve a tomb,” Harry proclaimed. “Or at least a fancy coffin.”

“He wanted to be cremated,” Hal simply said. “And I’ll go the same way.”

“Yeah, but what about a funeral?”

“There’s a memorial planned next week, actually.”

“Ah, I see.”

Rather than punctuate the silence with another unwarranted and inappropriate tangent, Harry checked his watch. “Well, that should do it.”

The technician approached the cremator, hand poised to open the door. Before he did, he turned back, still gripping the handle. “You sure you’re alright seeing this?”

“Yes,” Hal said, chin in his hand, bracing himself.

Harry obliged, opening the cremator. All that was left was a crumpled pile of chalky bones. And yet Hal felt… relieved. 

He had witnessed the complete destruction of Solid Snake, and it set his mind at peace. 

Big Boss. Gray Fox. Liquid. Solidus. All on ice. All experimented on, modified, coveted. Preserved for science, for study, for war.

Not Solid Snake. Hal saw to that. Not his David.

He kept the ashes close for the rest of his life. When he was also ash, their daughter took them to Alaska one last time. She spread them underneath the night sky, the aurora and Jupiter shining bright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for following along through the week! This was my first time participating in a daily prompt challenge, and it proved to be an introspective experience. I hope the end product isn't too much of a tonal or chronological whiplash. (What can I say? I like variety!)


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